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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613307">Winds of Change</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoringMacaroni/pseuds/BoringMacaroni'>BoringMacaroni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eproctophilia, Family, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fantasy, Fart Fetish, Farting, Farts, Fatherhood, Gas Kink, Gassy Guy, Gay dads, Husbands, LGBTQ, M/M, Parenthood, Romance, Trans Dad Character, Urban Fantasy, fart kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:26:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoringMacaroni/pseuds/BoringMacaroni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into their future, together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dante/Curtis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Winds of Change</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em>That's</em> how you and Dad met?"</p><p>Dante was able to infer from the gobsmacked tone of his second eldest that she wasn't satisfied with the finished product of her request. He couldn't say that he hadn't anticipated this; their eight-year-old was, beyond a shadow or even a mere patch of shade of doubt, the household's harshest critic.</p><p>"Yes, Iris," he calmly confirmed. "You asked to hear the story, and so I told you the story."</p><p>She snatched at his offered plate of honey-drizzled waffles. "Uh, <em>no.</em> I asked for a <em>romantic</em> story. <em><strong>Not </strong></em>one about Dad's big stinky butthole."</p><p>Yawning from the seat next to her sibling at the kitchen's marbled island, Nell Dinmont-Fergle crunched up another mouthful of Cheerios with all the lassitude of a girl who has two additional years of experience on this planet, and so an additional two years of experience in being raised by the local buffoons.</p><p>"Get used to it," she mumbled. "All of his stories are about Dad's stinky butthole."</p><p>"Not all of them!" Dante exclaimed. "Just... the overwhelming majority."</p><p>The parent whose southern passage they were so openly referring to <em>was</em> present in the room on this rainy Sunday morning, although distracted from the family breakfast by his latest art project. Hunkered over in his pop-up studio, which he had assembled next to the door leading into their backyard, the flesh of Curtis' forehead was creased in concentration as his steady hand stroked and dressed the canvas in lavishly luxurious waves of color.</p><p>Taking no notice of the conversation playing out around him, he leaned to the side as if to inspect his piece from a new and more refreshing angle, and mistakenly cut a two-toned toot.</p><p>"This may come as a surprise, but the stinky butthole happens to be a recurring theme in this family," Dante remarked. At the sound of his husband's escaping flatus – and in his own take on Pavlov's Bell – his hand had instinctively stopped spreading a layer of raspberry jelly over a slice of toast, and reached across the counter to press twice on the nozzle of the closest bottle of Febreze (they were strategically planted all over their cottage. One could engage in a kind of treasure hunt if they found themselves with little else to do.)</p><p>"And, hey, Iris? Why am I not hearing any please and thank yous?"</p><p>The child rammed half a waffle into her mouth. "<em>Thanks </em>for telling us a story about Dad's big stinky butthole, <em>please</em> don't tell it again," she implored between hearty munches, making golden crumbs rain down on the notepad beside her plate.</p><p>Dante, having felt that reprimand had not quite had the effect he wished it to, murmured a muted <em>"you're welcome."</em></p><p>A sparkly pink spoon cartwheeled through the air with the intent to smack the adult upside the head. It missed the mark, however, and found the next best spot on the brunette's shoulder.</p><p>"Hey!"Dante bellowed.</p><p>"Nice throw," Nell congratulated the culprit, who babbled and clapped her sticky hands together.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, the NFL should be calling any day now," the man retrieved the discarded utensil and scowled.</p><p>It was clean. <em>Too</em> clean.</p><p>He waggled it disapprovingly as he approached the highchair, with its butterfly-shaped tray protruding from Hettie's bibbed chest, boasting a disappointingly untouched bowl of food. She reached out both hands to touch him, or maybe to frisk him, in case he had anything more edible stowed away in his pockets.</p><p>"Lambchop, you gotta give Daddy some kind of clue here. You were<em> all</em> about the pumpkin and pear two days ago. What happened? Who hurt you?"</p><p>"Bah!" The toddler helpfully informed.</p><p>"I don't see how <em>anybody </em>could still have an appetite after hearing that story," Iris reflected (despite having devoured eighty percent of her meal within a minute of receiving it.) She intended for her comment to come out a sprinkle more surreptitiously, but Iris had, as so many report cards had enlightened her parents, no understanding of how to do this.</p><p>Dante dropped the spoon into the sink and picked another from the drawer. "Then why don't we circle back to what this conversation was actually about?"</p><p>"Oh, that you and Dad's relationship is void of romance?" Nell suggested. When her father leered at her, she presented him with her most innocent smile: one that reminded him of a habit trademarked by her Auntie Frankie.</p><p>He made his case as he attempted to direct some green gloop into the toddler's mouth. "Romance, my ignorant progeny," Dante began, "has a different definition in every relationship's dictionary. No two will be the same, you see. It's like how every family has their own recipe for spaghetti- oh! Spaghetti! Yum yum spaghetti time!" He squealed, seeing that he had acquired the rare attention of Hettie's appetite with the mention of a far more palatable food than what she was being fed.</p><p>Iris squinted doubtfully. "You're saying romance… is like spaghetti?"</p><p>"In a metaphorical way, yes. Some couples might add extra mushrooms, other couples might hold out on the onions, but me and your Dad-"</p><p>"-can't have spaghetti, because spaghetti gives Dad gas," the eight-year-old nodded sagely. "I see. So that's why you're not romantic."</p><p>"No, that's not what I-"</p><p>"Don't be stupid, <em>stupid</em>," Nell glared at her. "It's not just spaghetti.<em> Everything </em>gives Dad gas."</p><p>"While that is true, it is in no way near to what we're talking about," Dante patiently asserted. "My point, dear children, is that everybody has something that works for them. It doesn't matter if no one else buys into it. It just has to work for you two."</p><p>"And doing nothing works for you two?" The eldest volunteered.</p><p>"Me and your Dad are romantic on our own terms. We just don't show it in front of you three because you'll make a big fuss and tell us to stop! No kid wants to see their parents smooching it up in front of them, right?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah, but <em>every</em> kid wants to see their dads burp and blow it in each other's faces," Iris groaned.</p><p>"Watch it! That's a sacred ritual between me and your father, missy," Dante pointed the spoon at her accusingly. "I will <strong>not</strong> tolerate any slander."</p><p>Speaking of not tolerating things, Hettie decided this was the ideal time to spit up and blast out the mixture Dante thought she had already swallowed. It splattered all over his clean shirt. This was such an occasion to rejoice that it called for three "bahs!", tipping the bowl onto its side, and banging repeatedly on her tray.</p><p>"And we'll call it a day on that one, I think," Dante grumbled. He gathered Iris' cleared plate and the half-empty bowl, depositing the latter near where he had been preparing Curtis' breakfast and taking the former with him to the sink.</p><p>"Hey, Dad? You know Jaynie Acklin's mom?"</p><p>The mention of that name made Dante turn on the faucet to a much stronger setting than he meant to. Water careened wildly out of the pipe, further soiling his shirt. "Shi- <em>shoot. </em>Jaynie what-now?"</p><p>"Jaynie Acklin," Iris repeated. "She's in my class. You know her mom, she's the lady who works at the courthouse. The one who owns that huge townhouse on Beaver Boulevard."</p><p>"Ah. The mom whose six-thousand-dollar BMW takes up three spaces in the school drop-off zone?"</p><p>"Mmmhmm," Iris sipped loudly on her O.J. "You know how she met <em>her</em> wife? Jaynie's step-mom saved her from a burning building."</p><p>The only noise to disturb the following silence was the eternal gurgling of Curtis' guts.</p><p>"That was on fire," Iris clarified, in case neither Dante nor her sister had joined up the dots. "And had people <strong>DYING IN IT</strong>," she further amplified.</p><p>"Shut up, you liar," Nell chided.</p><p>"I'm not lying! Jaynie told the whole class on Friday. We had to stay inside for recess 'cause of the storm."</p><p>"But how could her wife save her from a <em>fire?</em> She works at the butcher's shop."</p><p>"An excellent point," Dante said, winking at Nell. "Good detective work there, kiddo."</p><p>"Because she's a volunteer fire-lady, <em>that's</em> why," Iris attested after sticking her tongue out at Dante. "Someone spilled coffee over the printer in Jaynie's mom's office and she was the only one who couldn't get out since the door was stuck. So Jaynie's step-mom had to come in through the roof."</p><p>Now Nell was digging it. "Through the <em>roof?</em>"</p><p>"Uh huh. She swung in on a rope like Tarzan, but with more clothes on. She swooped her up and rescued her from the flames!"</p><p>"Hey, that's kinda cool!"</p><p>"Right? And <em>soooo</em> romantic!"</p><p>Dante cleared his throat as he started on the dishes. "Yeah, well, some of us wish she just left her <em>inside</em>..."</p><p>
  <strong>"DAAAAAD!"</strong>
</p><p>Iris' voice reached decibels Dante didn't know were possible as she hollered at her alternate caretaker.</p><p>
  <strong>"DAD SAID SOMETHING MEAN ABOUT OTHER FAMILIES AGAIN!"</strong>
</p><p>Curtis might as well have been on Mars for all he reacted to this. The tip of his nose was almost touching the canvas as he searched the painted landscape, knowing there was<em> something </em>missing but not knowing where, or what.</p><p>"No one can hear your screams, mon petit," his partner chuckled. "Especially <em>not </em>Count Flatula over here. Your Pop's in that magical place artists call<em> the groove.</em> You know how hard it is getting him out once he's in there."</p><p>"So? You still have to put five bucks in the jar," Iris protested.</p><p>"Put it on a tab for me," he smirked.</p><p>Nell slurped the last of her cereal milk and wiped away the frothy mustache with the back of her hand. "It's not <em>just</em> that your story's not romantic, Dad..."</p><p>"Oh, here we go." Dante slung the towel he had been using over his shoulder.</p><p>"It's not believable, either."</p><p>"Ahah, but Jaynie Acklin's mom being trapped in a fire and having her wife swing in through the window like Tarzan <em>is?</em>"</p><p>"It was the roof, <em>actually</em>, and that's a hundred times more believable than there being a time when Dad held in his farts!"</p><p>And not a millisecond later did the rumbling and sloshing of Curtis' intestines become more profound, more impassioned, until a titanic gust charged out of his can and made each of them seal a hand around their noses. Apart from Hettie, who laughed until she gave herself the hiccups.</p><p>"Make that a billion," Nell corrected.</p><p>Dante clicked down on the Febreze, sniffed the air, then clicked another six times. Rapidly. "We've been over this before," he said. "Many moons ago, back when your father still felt the need to contain himself around us all-"</p><p>"The Good Ole Days," Iris exhaled wistfully.</p><p>"-this family took a historical vote about whether we cared more about his wellbeing and physical comfort…" He coughed as Curtis' clouds made the rounds of the room. "Or having decent levels of oxygen available in the house. And we chose Option A."</p><p>"Ah, that's right. And who voted again?" Nell questioned, already knowing.</p><p>"Me and Ruby."</p><p>"Great," Iris rolled her eyes. "His husband and a cat that can't smell."</p><p>"Fair is fair, kiddo."</p><p>"Oh yeah?" Nell butted back in. "Then how come <em>we </em>didn't get to vote?"</p><p>"Uhhh, because you're minors," Dante laughed at the absurdity of the notion. "Duh! Case closed."</p><p>"It's not just that! You said Dad was a hero!" Iris huffed. "But he doesn't have a shiny medal like Jaynie Acklin's step-mom does."</p><p>"Your Dad's a hero to me," Dante smiled.</p><p>"Eugh, that doesn't count!"</p><p>"Of course it counts. He just doesn't have a dumb medal," he shrugged. Jaynie Acklin's mom this, Jaynie Acklin's mom that. Her six-thousand-dollar car and its real leather interior and four-wheel drive wasn't even that <em>cool.</em> "Which, by the way, none of us parents have even <em>seen</em>-"</p><p>"Okay, so does Dad have a statue built of him?"</p><p>Dante sighed. "No, Iris, he does not."</p><p>"And is there a holiday named after him?"</p><p>"You're setting me up for failure here and I don't like it."</p><p>"Do they sing songs about him?"</p><p>"Yup." Dante nodded encouragingly at the surprised and trepidatiously hopeful response from his children. "That one they did do, actually. None were complimentary, but some of them were real toe-tappers after a couple of verses. It's amazing what you can rhyme with smelly once you really think about it."</p><p>Nell shook her head, muttered a word that, if she cranked up the volume, would have earned her at least two days worth of grounding, and turned back to her book.</p><p>Meanwhile, Iris tossed her notepad onto the floor and face-planted the table with a wounded cry. It had been where she wished to collect an equally poignant romantic history between her parents to construct a tale of her own that she, too, could regale the playground with at recess. So much for that. "It's not <em>fair!"</em></p><p>"Iris, chill out," Dante soothed sympathetically. "Look, maybe Daddy exaggerated a smidgen..."</p><p>"Or a lot-gen," Nell said without looking up. "Like you always do."</p><p>"But people <em>did </em>treat your Dad differently after what happened. They used to run from him, you know. They smelled him coming and it was the hundred-meter-sprint! But once he stood up to those ding-dongs? Ahhh..." Dante stared up at the ceiling with a dreamy smile. "It was more like a brisk walk."</p><p>
  <strong> <em>PPPPHHHOOOOMMPHT!</em> </strong>
</p><p>Curtis' ladybug boxers flapped wildly as his in-built tuba honked out another fruity note. If only it had the scent to match.</p><p>Iris raised her head and glowered at Nell. "And you call <em>me</em> a liar," she grunted.</p><p>Dante scoffed. He could only take so much, and he was getting sick of this continual two-on-one. It was time to call in the big guns (or, in this case, <em>buns</em>.)</p><p>"Okay, when it comes to how me and your Dad met, and whether he actually <em>was</em> the hero I believe him to be, you just have to trust me," he admitted. "But when it comes to the validity of the everlasting infatuation between me and your Pops? Why, I've got one-hundred-and-thirty-two-pounds of solid evidence to back me up! Right, Ferg?"</p><p>He looked over at his engrossed lover and snapped his fingers.</p><p>"Curtis. Curtis? Curtis... Curtis...CURTIS!"</p><p>"Dad!" Nell joined in.</p><p><strong>"DAAAAAD!" </strong>Iris contributed her foghorn.</p><p>"Bah! Bah!" Hettie added, not really knowing why she was doing it, but not wanting to be left out either.</p><p>Curtis flinched and wheeled around, chucking splodges of paint all over his owlish glasses. "Huh?!"</p><p>Dante sighed affectionately at the bumbling man. Much had changed in the years since he had met his faithful sidekick: Curtis remained fun-sized, remained freckled from head to toe, and still had a weeny gap between his two front teeth, but his cluster of mousy locks had been fading since his twenties (yet another feature he had inherited from the <em>original </em>Mr. Fergle.) Now, a few years shy of the big four-oh, he had a cap of thick, grey hair.</p><p>The salt-and-pepper-stubble was new, too. As was the sloping stomach. He had grown into himself and then grown out of it, along with every pair of jeans he owned. Enlisting the help of Dante's home-cooking, and being freed from the shackles of the so-called <em>'gas-free'</em> diets his mother had endorsed, had morphed Curtis' physique from twig to teddy bear.</p><p>He stared back at his family uncertainly, then fluttered his hand back and forth behind his ass, as though the surrounding air was the guilty party.</p><p>"You guys know how the silent ones like to sneak up on Daddy..." he apologized.</p><p>"Dude, did the room clear out?" Dante proposed. "It's not that."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>"We're having a family discussion," his husband made a swooping gesture, as though ushering him toward a private table at an expensive restaurant. "Your input, <em>monsieur</em>," Dante said, in his best, and what also happened to be his worst French accent.</p><p>The cursed one rose from his stool, walked to the sink, dunked his hands into the soapy water, and wiped them dry on his dirty sweater. His eyes scanned the room for a possible snack and completely bypassed the toast Dante had lovingly set aside for him in favor of the half-empty bowl of gloop.</p><p>"Aw, <em>sweet!</em> Is that pumpkin and pear?!"</p><p>Now he took a slice of toast and scraped up a mound of the mashed up paste onto it. Dante, Iris and Nell tried to discourage him, but in it went.</p><p>Curtis chewed on it happily and did a few steps of a victory dance. "Mmm-mmm! That's good stuff!"</p><p>Dante blinked. "<em>Really</em>, Curtis?"</p><p>"Huh? Oh, heh," his partner smiled gingerly and patted his paunchy middle. "What can I say? Guess I still got pregnancy cravings."</p><p>"Interesting," Nell said, stroking her invisible beard, "since you were never pregnant."</p><p>"Oh, but that doesn't sound right to <em>me!</em> Oh no no no!" Curtis crossed the room to bump noses with the giggling Hettie. "Does that sound right to <em>you</em>, muffin? 'cause I got a big belly, and I got a widdle baby right here! Hi! Hello! Good morning, pretty girl!"</p><p>"You lose the belly once the baby's born," Nell elucidated.</p><p>"And you were fat <em>way </em>before we got her..." Iris added.</p><p>"Romance," Dante changed the subject, "we were discussing romance."</p><p>Curtis literally chewed on the subject as he helped himself to another slice. "Weeeeeell," he linked eyes with Dante. "I think I know a couple of folks who know <em>all </em>about that. Don't you?"</p><p>"I think I do," Dante agreed, mirroring Curtis' purposeful expression. "I was just telling them about-"</p><p>"Jaynie Acklin's mom and her wife!" Curtis suddenly cried. "Oooh, did you guys hear about the burning printer?! And the door that got stuck?! And how she had to go in through the roof, oh my <em>gosh!</em> It's<em> SO</em> beaut-"</p><p>"Stop talking! Stop talking!" Dante ordered over the sound of their kids' amused laughter. Curtis frowned, uncomprehending.</p><p>"Dad," Nell said, having elected to take on the role of the resident therapist, "do you think there's romance in this family?"</p><p>Curtis licked his fingers and tilted his head. "Uhhh... with who, cupcake?"</p><p>"Ruby and her worm-on-a-string, Curtis," Dante rubbed his face tiredly. "Who'd you think?"</p><p>"Ohhh! Well of <em>course</em> there's romance!" Curtis beamed. "Why, me and your Dad are romantic<em> every </em>day!"</p><p>Iris, far from convinced that either of her parents could salvage this shi- shoot-show, didn't bother to look up from mopingly rolling her pen back and forth across the table. "How?" She grouched.</p><p>"Uhh... well… like how your Dad knows the way I like getting my tummy rubbed! Oh yeah! Back, and forth, and then a little circle in the middle, and then back again, and then up a little, and then up and down the sides..."</p><p>"Move over Romeo and Juliet," Nell snorted and elbowed Iris' side. Iris started to slap herself with a placemat. </p><p>"<em>Orrrr,</em>" Dante tried, "how about how your Dad always has a bath waiting for me when I come home from my nightshift? Huh? And you know how far past his bedtime that is."</p><p>"Or how your Dad keeps an extra special comb beside our bed to brush my hair for me when I can't fall asleep?" Curtis added cheerfully.</p><p>"Or how your Dad has an emergency supply of chips and dips stored away for me for when I need to rewatch <em>Sex in the City</em> for the twelfth time? Or is it thirteen now...?"</p><p>"Or how your Dad writes me those cute little notes for me in my lunchbox! I keep every last one!"</p><p>"Or how your Dad-"</p><p>"That's all so <em>BORING!"</em></p><p>Iris couldn't take it any longer. She sprung out of her seat and paraded around the kitchen. If she could reach the shelf that contained the pots and pans, you could bet your bottom dollar that she would've grabbed a couple, although it was unanimously agreed that Iris needed no assistance in making a racket.</p><p>"Where's the burning building?! Where's the action?! Where's the bravery and the sacrifice and the- and the-"</p><p>"Honey, true love is the most boring thing in the universe," Dante interrupted. "The sooner you learn that, the better."</p><p>"What's got you thinking about romance, anyhow?" Curtis wondered.</p><p>The child's tensed face smoothed out as she dropped back into her seat. "Because people used to listen to <em>me </em>at recess! <em>I</em> was the one with the cool stories. But I can't compete with Jaynie's. I just wanted something to tell everybody… something that <em>wasn't </em>about farts, for once," she whined.</p><p>Dante and Curtis shared a sympathetic look. For this duo, that was asking a lot.</p><p>Dante made himself useful at the sink again. But Curtis stepped closer to his adopted offspring, looking around as if to check that no one else was listening in. He lowered to her level and pointed a finger back and forth between them.</p><p>"Well, did your Dad- <em>ahem</em>- talk about the vision I had?"</p><p>"The what?" They all inquired, including Dante.</p><p>"Oh, well, I guess you wouldn't know about it, Dante," Curtis said. "Since it was <em>my</em> vision and all. But back when me and your Dad first crossed paths… and when we first looked into each other's eyes..." Curtis grinned as it all came back to him. "I blacked out. Everything went dark around me. Your Dad was the only thing that was bright. He had this… this glow about him."</p><p>Iris collected her notepad from the floor and primed herself at light speed. Her pen hovered over the lined paper, ready to religiously transcribe every last detail.</p><p>"A glow?" She prompted. "Like a firefly?"</p><p>"Kind of. It was more like- oh, it's silly, but the kind of thing people talk about when you see angels. Like a halo," Curtis said offhandedly, smiling indulgently at his husband as Iris gasped and copied it down. "It was a special glow, I think. One that only happened because when me and your Dad met, it was-"</p><p>"Love at first sight," Dante finished for him. "Or first sniff, I guess."</p><p>"The glow just kept getting brighter," Curtis continued, "and that's when I heard it."</p><p>"Heard what?" Nell piped up. She thought the whole thing sounded like a trip to Baloneyville at first, but something about the conviction in her Dad's storytelling had reeled her in.</p><p>Curtis closed his eyes and recited in a tender voice, <em>"Sei la mia anima gemella…" </em>When he opened his eyes, he saw the same question written on everyone's faces.</p><p>"You are my soul mate," he revealed. "It's Italian."</p><p>"Italian?! But that's the official language of love!" Iris squealed.</p><p>"I know! And you know what the craziest thing is? I didn't even know Italian then," Curtis laughed. "I swear, I couldn't read a word of it, I couldn't speak it, but this voice… even though it spoke in a language I didn't understand, I still knew what it meant. Because I didn't listen to it with my ears."</p><p>He paused for dramatic effect. Iris appreciated things like that.</p><p>"I listened to it with my heart." He lifted Dante's hand and placed it on the middle of his chest. "Right here."</p><p>"Well, it's more like here," Dante adjusted his hand, then smiled and squeezed it comfortingly. "But you were close."</p><p>Nell and Iris looked at each other, swapping similar expressions of awe and wonder.</p><p>"It might just work," the eight-year-old mused after a pensive pause. "It's crazy, but it might just work. Visions are <em>so</em> Shakespeare, you know, the other kids will just eat that up." Iris tapped the pen against her lips. "Still...it's not perfect. It'll need some editing. Maybe one of you has to drink poison, or there's a huge, bloody swordfight right before the end..."</p><p>"Can you add a scene where your Dad has to rescue me from a building with too many windows open?" The brunette whistled and waved a hand by his nose. Curtis had bent over to feed Hettie the rest of her breakfast (using slices of his toast in lieu of the spoon, of course, and sneaking a few cheeky bites for himself), and in doing so, aimed his chunky rump right at Dante.</p><p>"You won't catch me complaining about that!" He added.</p><p>The girls got a kick out of this, even though it was hardly new material. As breakfast reached its natural conclusion, they beelined to the living-room, eager to get to work on fine-tuning Iris' story. Nell already had a few ideas and was fully expecting a co-writer's credit once they polished it off, which Iris begrudgingly agreed to.</p><p>Dante scrubbed Hettie's jelly-smothered face, then cupped Curtis' prickly chin to wipe his too. Checking again to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, he asked, "you didn't <em>really</em> have a vision, did you?"</p><p>"No," Curtis replied. "And I didn't hear any voices, <em>and</em> I already knew Italian by then, heh."</p><p>"I thought so."</p><p>"But the rest of it is true." Emerald eyes twinkled. "I did feel that way. And I still feel it all these years later, big guy."</p><p>Dante neatened a rogue curl atop of his partner's head, then sighed as it popped right back up again. "Me too, short stuff. Guess some things never change, do they? You want more toast?"</p><p>"No... yes. But... maybe something on the side, too?"</p><p>A light-hearted smirk curled around the brunette's face. "You're getting the hang of this flirting thing, Fergle."</p><p>"Only took me twenty years!" Curtis belly-laughed (and when you had an extra big belly, that meant an extra big laugh.) They kissed, sumptuously slow, with hands groping waists, tickling thighs, lacing fingers. After a short while, Dante's wandering paws began to explore his husband's sweater.</p><p>As far as <em>their</em> relationship was concerned, this was where the real romance was at.</p><p>"And it's not back, and forth, and then a little circle in the middle, and then back again, and then up a little, and then up and down the sides, you <em>amateur,</em>" he tutted and ground his palms into Curtis' squishy rolls. "It's forth, back, forth again, circle up, circle down annnnd...!"</p><p>
  <strong> <em>BrRRrRrrRRUuMMMPpPPpPpPPPPHHHRRRTTHTTTRuuUUUMMFRPTTTbbBBBRRROOOWWWPT!</em> </strong>
</p><p>"Bingo," Dante winked, rightly arrogant of his hard-earned expertise. It was a blissful two seconds of boundless adoration and unconditional acceptance. Then they had to face the reality that someone had cracked open a fresh can of Butt Funk, on purpose, and this was the limited basket-of-moldy-cabbages edition. The gray-haired man's cheeks adorned their classic shade of rogue after his bubbly bum relieved itself of the big build-up of toxic waste, stewing their kitchen in all the glory of his noxiousness.</p><p>He flashed Dante a guilty look, one that was able to telepathically communicate a sincerely sympathetic 'excuse me', and Dante ran- ahem, <em>briskly walked </em>toward the nearest Febreze.</p>
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